


Banana Pancakes

by HoloXam



Series: Newt is Tired, a character study [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Masturbation, Sleep Deprivation, being very very tired, but mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 01:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16965531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoloXam/pseuds/HoloXam
Summary: To doze, to snooze,to rest…In which Newt has the hots for a good, long nap.





	Banana Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Newt getting off to the thought of a king size bed? More likely than you think 
> 
> (I was thinking of Jack Johnson's song Banana Pancakes, hence the title.)

Newt wants. Oh _god,_ he wants. Wants to sleep, more than anything. To sleep for days and days and days, until his head feels more like a head and less like a cap being tightened a little too much.

He wants to spend a week between silky sheets and feather duvets, soft blankets and firm pillows, unconscious, with nothing else to do than getting up to eat and maybe shower, slowly, once in a while.

Just to drift back and forth between wakefulness and oblivion, to roll over and bury his face in the pillows when sunlight tries to rouse him, to sleep, maybe dream, of space and lakes and soft touches.

To stay up past midnight in a warm, golden light, without thought or worry about the unforgiving countdown of the alarm clock.

To doze, to snooze, to _rest…_

 

His bunk is cold and his blanket scratchy. The bed lamp needs a new light bulb, so he strips in cold fluorescent light from above and pulls a dirty T-shirt over his head.

The lack of windows in the underground facility makes sure that it is pitch black when he turns out the lights, and he stumbles barefoot across the messy floor, diving under the covers with a shiver and a sigh.

Waking up in 4 hours and 24 minutes, he wills himself to relax, breathes deep and holds, exhales on a count of seven.

But his feet, his shins, his arms, his _toes_ are _cold,_ and Newt _wants,_ not only sleep, but _safety,_ safety and warmth, arms around his chest and a grounding presence pressing close in the soft twilight of a shared room.

Resolving to warm up his space by making himself sweat, Newt takes himself in hand and moans to a fantasy of feather beds, clean white sheets, and a vulgar amount of pillows. A warm breath ghosting against his ear, a raspy whisper saying, _let's stay in bed, love, pretend that there’s no world outside._

And if his traitorous lips call out, _Hermann, Hermann, Hermann,_ well, no one needs to know.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this mostly because I, too, am tired. This is basically a post saying "I'm so fucking tired". Anyway, I hope this was good for you too, hah!


End file.
